


Guard-dog

by shocked_into_shame



Series: The Adventures of Billy, Steve, & Lars [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Some more Fluff, god i love this dog, guess who's coming to dinner, lars is protective, only rated T for some swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: Family's coming for dinner, Billy's freaking out, and Larsreallydoesn't like Neil.





	Guard-dog

**Author's Note:**

> haha thanks to the discord server peeps for doing writing challenges and to flippyspoon for the idea of lars attacking neil
> 
> ALSO ihni on tumblr made AMAZING fanart of Billy & Lars, which almost made me cry in the supermarket today. Check it out here: https://tmblr.co/Z2OPAy2hE4AC5

Billy stalks into Steve’s living room, holding Lars’ leash in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Steve doesn’t mind him just coming into the house without notice, not anymore. He _does_ mind the whole smoking in the house thing, knows his mom won’t be pleased if the smell of cigarettes permeates her home when she comes back at the end of the summer.

 

But Billy’s entire posture screams out _don’t fucking mess with me_ , and even though he and Steve have been together for almost a month, now, Steve still doesn’t quite know how to handle Billy when he’s like this.

 

“What’s wrong, Billy?” he questions gently, patting the space near him on the couch. Billy drops onto the couch with a huff, and Lars instantly hops up beside him, laying across their laps, his feet in Steve’s and his head resting on Billy’s thigh.

 

“My fucking dad is what’s wrong,” Billy says, punching his cigarette out on Steve’s mom’s nice glass coaster. He bites his tongue. “The fucking prick kicks me out of the house and then has the fucking balls to demand I host him and Susan for dinner this weekend.”

 

“Shit,” Steve remarks, wrapping an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “That sucks.”

 

“Yeah, sucks is an understatement, babe,” Billy scoffs and absentmindedly rubs Lars’ head. “My apartment doesn’t even have a fucking table in it. I don’t have room to have them over.” He doesn't say it, but Steve knows what he's thinking - he's embarrassed of his tiny apartment. 

 

“You could, uh…” Steve trails off. This is probably a stupid idea, something that Billy would _never_ agree to. “You could have them over here? Just say that you are renting a room from me or something?”

 

Steve expects Billy to laugh outright, turn that offer down instantly. Instead, he leans back, pensive, and then says, with a small grin, “Harrington, you might have something up there in that pretty head of yours after all.”

* * *

Billy cooks like he drives - fast and violent but not carelessly. Steve watches as he shuffles about the kitchen, amused. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

 

“No,” he insists harshly, sneaking a piece of meatloaf to a very pleased Lars. “I’m almost done, anyway. Sorry I’m being such an ass.”

 

“That’s okay. I get it.”

 

“You don’t have to stay for dinner, you know,” Billy adds as he furiously stirs a bowl of mashed potatoes. The dog sits at his feet, eyeing the food hungrily. “My dad is really a fucking dickhead. Not sure you want a spend a night with him.”

 

“No, I don’t mind. I mean, your father probably wants to meet his son’s landlord, after all,” Steve teases, and Billy goes red.

* * *

The doorbell rings at 5 minutes to 6 and Billy rolls his eyes, setting down the dishrag he was using to dry plates. “Early. What a fucking surprise.”

 

Lars almost instantly starts barking. Lars is a talkative dog, always has been, but Steve has never heard him quite like this. He uses a loud, aggressive bark and charges toward the door. Steve is forced to grab at his collar, holding him back while Billy gets the door.

 

“What the hell happened to renting that apartment above the laundromat?” Billy’s dad demands the second Billy opens the door, not even stopping to greet his son. Steve instantly doesn’t like him. Well, from what he’s heard of him he already doesn’t like the man, but something about his smug face makes Steve like him even _less_.

 

“Had rats,” Billy says, simply. Steve is always impressed with his ability to come up with things so quickly. “So my friend Steve has been letting me rent a room here.”

 

“Hi,” Steve greets simply, still holding Lars’ collar. Neil steps into the house fully, and that’s when the dog starts acting like something out of the fucking twilight zone. The fur on the back of his body stands up and he starts growling, a low menacing rumble. Steve has never been intimidated by this dog despite his size, but in this moment Lars is _terrifying_ , and his eyes are fixed on Billy’s dad.

 

“What’s this?” Neil asks, gesturing toward the dog. He growls even louder. Steve clutches on to the collar even tighter.

 

“This is my dog,” Billy responds coolly, but his eyes betray him. He looks at his dog with slight apprehension, his eyes widening as Lars continues to growl threateningly, his nose curling angrily. “Usually he doesn’t growl. Not sure what’s gotten into him.”

 

“Why are you going to have a dog if you don’t even know how to train it, William?”

 

“Dad, he isn’t usually _like_ this --”

 

“You always said you wanted a dog, Billy, but I never let you get one for this precise reason. You don’t know how to take care of something like this.”

 

Steve’s ears ring as Lars’ growling builds up to full on barking, and he tries to charge at Neil. Steve _plants his feet_ and holds on tight, doing all that he can to keep the dog from rushing at Billy’s dad. The redheaded woman who entered with Neil and has said nothing so far - Steve assumes she is the stepmother - covers her ears gently. Lars’ barks reverberate through the house.

 

“Jesus, dad, the dog is normally fine! He’s just freaking out around new people.”

 

“Maybe you should take this dog back to the shelter if you can’t-”

 

Neil is cut off mid sentence as Lars finally breaks free of Steve’s grasp, knocking him over in the process. He runs at Billy’s dad and shoves his whole weight against him like a battering ram, jumping up to his full height on his hind legs. It’s an impressive, albeit downright scary, sight.  

 

“Lars!” Billy shouts, rushing forward and grabbing him. Neil pales and backs away. Lars continues to bark, baring his teeth, and Billy drags him away. “I’m going to put him in your room, Steve,” he remarks, dragging the still barking, growling dog up the stairs.

 

“So,” Steve remarks, awkwardly, standing up and fiddling with the hem of his polo. “How about them White Sox?”

 

* * *

Dinner is shared over uncomfortable, stinted conversation. Susan compliments Billy on his cooking, but Neil stays silent about it. No more words are spoken about the dog or his behavior, thank God. Neil does, however, question their living arrangements with a judgmental look, and only seems somewhat convinced after Billy assures him that Steve and him are _friends_. Steve feels panicked, his heart fluttering in his chest, but luckily Susan quickly interjects that it’s time to go pick up Max from her friend’s house. Steve says a silent prayer of thanks.  

 

Once Neil and Susan leave, Billy visibly deflates. “Jesus, what the fuck _was_ that?” he questions, roughly grabbing plates from the table. Steve steps in to help carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. “My old man just can’t be fucking satisfied with anything I do. I live above the laundromat? That place is too small. Tell him I don’t live there anymore? Well, _why’d you move, Billy?_ And then all that shit about me not being able to take care of Lars!” Billy drops the plate into the sink and it shatters, tiny ceramic pieces going everywhere. He buries his head in his hands, defeated.

 

Steve delicately places the dishes in his own hands down on the counter and wraps his arms around Billy’s waist from behind, resting his head on Billy’s back. “Don’t listen to that crap. He’s an ass. You are so good to Lars, and Lars is good for you.”

 

“You’re right, baby,” Billy mutters. “Just sucks to hear.”

 

“I know,” Steve soothes, squeezing tighter. “How about the way Lars acted, huh?”

 

“Oh, shit,” Billy suddenly breaks free of Steve’s grasp. “I gotta let Lars out of your room!” He bounds up to Steve’s room and Steve watches on in amusement as Billy carries Lars down the stairs like a baby.

 

Lars presses sweet kisses to Billy’s face. “Oh, that’s my good boy,” Billy coos. “See, I told Neil you weren’t a mean dog.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Steve supplies, walking towards them and scratching Lars’ chin. “Why do you think Lars freaked out so bad? I honestly thought he was going to bite your dad.”

 

“I dunno.” Billy grunts as he bends down and puts Lars back on the floor. Lars leans his weight against Billy’s legs protectively. “Maybe Lars didn’t like him.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t fucking blame him,” Steve quips, and Billy finally really relaxes, a big smile on his face.

 

“I should have let the dog bite him.”

 

“Oh my God, can you imagine? Lars could have taken a chunk out of him, no sweat.”

 

“Yeah, but then there would have been all the blood and shit. Would have had to clean it up.”

 

“Would have been worth it, I think,” Steve crouches down and shoves his face near Lars’, lets him lick at his chin. “You would have been such a good boy! You could have killed Billy’s dad, no problem!” he coos. Lars’ head tilts slightly, looking at Steve with big dopey eyes, and his tail wags furiously, slapping against the floor with an audible thump.

 

“Jesus, Steve,” Billy laughs incredulously. “First he’s just maiming, but now Lars is serving time for murder?”

 

“What can I say? I think big.”

 

Lars pants happily. “Yeah, Harrington, you really do,” and Billy gives him that _look_ , that wonderful look filled with affection that Steve can’t seem to get enough of. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in to press a gentle kiss on the side of his head. Warmth curls in Steve’s gut.

 

And then Steve smiles, a wide, shit-eating grin. “So,” he starts, kissing Billy on the cheek. “When are we having them over for dinner again?”


End file.
